In Our Dreams
by london'slonelyhearts
Summary: Killer John Winchester has been locked up in a prison for 10 years. His children, Dean, Sam and Emmy Winchester work to rebuild their lives. Dean as a nurse, Sam as a student and Emmy as an FBI consultant. As they try to escape the nightmares that their father invented and invested them into, they soon realize that their old lives may not be as untruthful as they seemed. An O/C.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Well, here it is. Hope you all like it! Feel free to leave reviews, comments, criticisms etc. **

Chapter One

The agent made his way to the interrogation room. This particular batch of killers was that of something the Behavioural Analysis Unit had not seen in a very long time. They would be compared to the likes of the Manson family for their brutality and cult like loyalty to each other. But what differed them from the traditional serial killers, was their regard for the law and the science behind it. The investigators found little evidence attaching the family to the crimes, asides from a few surveillance tapes and eye witness accounts. Psychological evidence however, was what the profilers were banking on.

Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi was one of the founders of the BAU, prompting him to be one of the leaders of the investigation. Dozens of people to interview, only four to interrogate. Coffee would be something of a survival method for the following weeks and months, and Rossi hoped that the coffee would at least be decent.

It had been a while since he had left his desk, the profiling and analysis of killers' behaviour was something that took up the majority of his time rather than field work. He had jumped on the chance (and was graciously invited) to participate and lead the interrogations of the family. The father, worked his family like a troop, him being the leader, 22 year old Dean being the second in command, with 18 year old Sam and 16 year old Emerson being foot soldiers.

It didn't take any profiling skills to see the tension that lay between Emerson and her father. From the surveillance tapes they could see that Emerson and John were often on each other's toes, her body language defiant, strong, but eventually obedient. Even here, in the minutes after their arrest, and when they were taken to the interrogation room of the FBI, she asked only of her brothers.

Rossi, as well as Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, could tell that her loyalty fell with her brothers over her father, although her obedient nature towards him may have been because of abuse. All the siblings exhibited scars and wounds, most untreated, or treated crudely, the stitches and evident broken collarbones were most definitely not treated by medical professionals.

"You ready?"

Hotch shook Dave from his thoughts, the plausible scenarios of how the interrogation would go, how it would end. He knew that no matter what, all would need extensive therapy, but whether or not they would be deemed fit to stand trial was that of another matter.

Rossi nodded. Today was the day that would change his life. Today was the day he met the Winchesters.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

He entered the interrogation room quietly, taking a seat across from the teenage girl. Her blonde hair was tied in a loose braid, a few loose strands framing her face. The two said nothing as Rossi made himself comfortable, or rather, as comfortable as he could while sitting across from a serial killer. Despite his years of experience, the feeling that enshrouded him in those moments or hours in the same room with someone who has taken human life in cold blood always left his stomach in knots.

"My name is David Rossi and I'm a Supervisory Special Agent here at the Behavioural Analysis Unit with the FBI."

"Where are my brothers?" the girl asked, straight to the point. She leaned back in her chair, rocking herself with her foot. Mud had tracked in with her, the thick substance packed into the crevices of her combat boots.

"They're being interrogated as we speak."

"Interrogated for what?"

"Murder, among other things."

"What murders?"

"As far as we're aware of, 12. But I'm sure there are more."

"Don't you need a Child Services Agent here in order to interrogate me?"

"What makes you think you're being interrogated?"

The girl rolled her eyes, the answer obvious.

"Because you're interrogating my brothers. Makes sense that you'd interrogate me too. Which begs me to repeat, don't you need a Child Services Agent here?"

"We're not interrogating you Emerson, not yet. I haven't asked you any questions regarding the case. And as far as CPS is concerned, an agent is on their way."

"So what are you charging us with?"

"Us?"

"You said that you couldn't ask what I knew, now I'm asking you what you know."

"I see. Did your dad teach you your rights?"

"He said that it was important to know them. Seems he was right," Emerson replied, picking at the mud, causing flakes to fall and land on the cold cement floor.

"Seems he was," Rossi said, "We're charging you with the murders of Henry Wheeler, James Fairview, Anita Gavin in the first degree as well as insurance fraud, credit card fraud and identity theft."

"That's quite the list Dave, you think you can hold all that up in court?"

"With your confessions, I'm sure we will."

"It'll take a lot to get my dad to confess Dave, you should know that," the girl stated, starting to pick at her fingernails and the mud that resided underneath them. "What are you charging my brothers with?"

"The same, but the more we learn from you, the more we'll find out about them and what they've done."

Something changed within her, for a second, Rossi thought her saw concern flash in her eyes before her composure was regained and she asked,

"How do you know that I didn't do all of it?"

Rossi stared at her, this question that had passed her lips was spoken in such a casual tone that it could have been mistaken for asking for coffee or what the weather was like. She looked up at him expectantly.

"We don't."

"Well Dave, better call a priest, 'cause I have more confessions than a serial adulterer that likes to cheat on his Atkins diet on Sundays with cake and porn."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

"So she confessed to everything?" Agent Hotchner asked, crossing his arms.

The older agent nodded. Dave had spent a good two hours with the youngest Winchester, hearing the details of more murders than he cared to mention. He knew that some she had lied about, her lies obvious due to a small tick, not an obvious one, as she had been doing so practically the entire time, but picking her nails was determined to be her tell, her tick. A specific pick though, a rough kind, as though scraping at some invisible vermin, her nails having been clean in the first few minutes of them meeting. Had Rossi not been a profiler, he would have believed her, her face showing little evidence to crimes. She spoke with a cool composure. When they spoke of the reasons why, she stated simply,

"They were monsters."

She spoke of folklore, of monsters and men, of the nightmares that walked the earth. Dave soon discovered that the boys had done the same. While most serial killers seemed to plead insanity as a scapegoat, the Winchesters generally had to. Their minds were not understanding, were not acknowledging the reality around them.

Unlike the small towns where minor arrests were made, the Winchester siblings had no contact with each other in the weeks and months that followed. Placed in separate cells in separate jails, their contact was nonexistent.

Due to the publicity and the confessions, the Winchesters were charged fairly quickly.

John Winchester was placed in the psychiatric section of a top security prison, while Dean, Sam and Emerson were placed in institutions across the country, their sanity questioned, prodded, medicated, analyzed until proven sane.

But that was just the beginning, their story continues long after that, their legacy, their legend, for many generations to come. Their name would be synonymous for danger, murder and mystery. The Winchesters. The _Infamous_ Winchesters.


	2. Experience

Chapter Two

**A/N: Feel free to leave comments, criticisms, reviews etc! Hope you like it! **

Chapter Two

- NINE YEARS AFTER THE ARREST –

Agent Rossi drove round the corner to the small apartment building on the edge of the street. The limestone brick had once been coarse, but the hundred years of rain had left it smooth, the signs of the aged rock evident in the tear like stains that fell from the roof.

It had been a few years since Dave had seen Emerson Winchester, and a great deal had changed since their initial meeting. For one, she chose to go with the last name Harolds now, and had her name shortened to Emmy. As for the rest of the Winchesters, names were changed as well, although John's remained the same. Dean Winchester was now Dean Thomas; he worked at a hospital a few states away as a nurse. Sam Winchester, now Sam Richards, lived in Kansas, but was working to become a lawyer. Emmy worked two jobs, but had inherited a significant amount of money after the death of her adoptive parents when she was 20. She kept to herself mostly, and visited a therapist twice a week.

Through the rain, Rossi saw her. Standing at the edge of the curb, her now dark hair cut shoulder length, a vast difference to that of her long blonde hair of her teen years. She smiled as the agent pulled up in the black suburban.

"Hi Dave."

"Hey kiddo. How are you?" he asked as he leaned over to open the door.

"Nervous," she replied, buckling her seat belt. "Do they know?"

"No. Hotch and I decided that that should be left up to you," Rossi replied.

"What do I tell them? How do I talk to them? What's my cover? A student? A cadet thing? An agent?"

Rossi chuckled,

"How about consultant?"

"Don't laugh Dave, this is very serious business! And I suppose consultant will have to do. Would they believe that?"

"Most likely. They don't have a reason not to at this point."

"Will they like me?" she asked, her concern evident on her face. Rossi looked over at the young woman in the passenger seat, how much she had changed since that time in the interrogation room almost a decade before. She had been young, childish, cocky even, like her eldest brother Dean, but quiet at the same time, like Sam. But now, this woman, was 25 years old and nervous about meeting a few FBI agents.

"Dave? Tell me the truth… please. Will they like me?"

"If they find out, they will be upset, more at me for bringing you along but Hotch and I will explain why you're needed."

"And why exactly am I needed? You didn't say too much on the phone."

"We have a series of murders, what we'd classify as a spree killing most days, but this one's different. This is planned, the victims are random, but what the killers do has precision, takes time and effort."

"What makes you think that I can help?"

"Because this case has symbols. Languages that Reid hasn't learned yet."

"Sounds like a rarity from what you've told me about him," Emerson replied.

"Yes. We need someone who knows what they're looking at. Who can tell us what they mean, both literally and what they mean to the crimes. You can help us with that Emerson."

"I hope so."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Rossi boarded the plane first, having told the team to go on board ahead of time. He took a seat closest to the window, allowing Emerson to sit herself beside him. She smiled nervously, smoothing out the lapels of her jacket, the fabric slightly damp from the day's rain.

"Team, this is Emmy Harolds. She'll be acting as a consultant for the case," Rossi explained, "Em, these are Special Agents Morgan, Todd, Prentiss, and Dr Reid. You already know Hotch."

"Nice to meet all of you, Dave's told me a lot about you," Emerson replied, shaking each agents hand. "Good to see you again Aaron."

"You too," the agent replied, taking her hand in both of his.

"What will you be consulting on?" Prentiss asked.

"From what Dave's told me, I'll be consulting on the sigils half of the case, determining what each one means and how they relate to what the killers are saying."

"I'm sorry, the sigils?"

"Sorry, the symbols, or markings that are at the scenes," she explained.

"What are your qualifications?" Agent Todd asked, her tone rather smug. Emerson stopped, a little off put by Todd's cold demeanor.

"I don't have any."

"Really?"

"No Phd or training. Just experience," Emerson replied casually.

"And that gives you the qualifications to work with the FBI? To catch killers?"

"My type of experience? Absolutely."

Sensing the possibility of a fight, Prentiss interrupted,

"So how do you guys know each other?" she asked, referring to Emerson, Dave and Hotch. The consultant laughed slightly, a little embarrassed,

"About 10 years ago I found myself on the wrong side of the law, and Dave and Aaron were kind enough to help me out. Guess they saw something in me that others didn't."

The team went silent, each wondering what Emerson could have been involved in to have met the two older agents. Was she a witness? A suspect?

"Shall we move on?" Hotch asked, bringing the team back to the case at hand. Garcia promptly showed up on the small iPad screen, her platinum curls held in tight buns wrapped in flowers.

"So we have two Caucasian females, both brunette, killed within the past 72 hours. They were gagged, beaten for hours before being stabbed to death."

"Where were they found?" Reid asked.

"Inside their homes, the first by her husband, the second by her sister. The police noticed that there were a lot of ceremonial markings around the bodies. They said that it looked Satanic or something." Emmy paused, Rossi watched her blink a few times before staring down at the pictures.

"Any leads?" Morgan asked.

"None so far my chocolate god, just a lot of nothing as far as my techie magic is concerned."

"Any signs of sexual assault?" Prentiss asked, continuing to look through the files.

"Nodda."

"Okay, thanks Garcia."

"No problem."

With a click, the screen went back to the FBI shield screensaver.

Rossi and Aaron watched as Emmy flipped through the photographs, turning them upside down. It was a few moments before Emerson realized that she had gained an audience, as she quickly gathered up the photographs again and stacked them in a neat pile.

"Sorry, thought I saw something."

"No need to apologize. What did you see?"

"It's nothing really, just thought I recognized the symbols from somewhere," Emmy replied, shaking her head.

"If you have any information Emmy, even if it doesn't seem important, it could be."

"It's just-" she paused then pulled out one of the symbols and then a pad of paper. "This one here, it's almost looks like Enochian but-"

"Wait, what's Enochian?" Todd asked.

"It's an angelic language created by Dr. Jonathan Dee and Sir Edward Kelly in the 16th Century," Reid explained. Emmy stared up at him, her eyes wide. "I've never seen that particular sigil like that before though."

"It's because it's wrong. They messed up. It's supposed to be," she said, writing out the correct sigil, "More like this, see? They did it wrong… What I don't understand is why they put it there. I mean, it doesn't make any sense. These killings are ritualistic, but why the torture? Their victims aren't under any need for protection, so why put that particular sigil there?"

"Maybe it's a warning?" Prentiss suggested.

"There's specific sigils for that though. Either we're dealing with some amateur cultist wannabe, or they seriously suck at using Google," Emmy replied, going over the rest of the photographs. She struggled to understand what it was that the killer was trying to say; it looked almost like a melting pot of various signs and symbols, like the ones her father had used for summoning, protecting, exorcising, all different languages and meanings. None of them made sense.


End file.
